Jester Jake Jackson Posted July 21, 2017 Share Posted July 21, 2017 WITH eagerness he drinks the treach'rous potion, Nor stops to rest, by the first taste misled; Sweet is the draught, but soon all power of motion He finds has from his tender members fled; No longer has he strength to plume his wing, No longer strength to raise his head, poor thing! E'en in enjoyment's hour his life he loses, His little foot to bear his weight refuses; So on he sips, and ere his draught is o'er, Death veils his thousand eyes for evermore. - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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